Fire and Ice
by Xx SadoMasochist xX
Summary: --Rewriting-- Draco is misunderstood. Honestly, he doesn't mean to be so mean. He just.... can't help it. He has his reasons... HarryxDraco, kind of OOC. Please don't flame.
1. Loneliness Is A Blessing

**A/N:** Please be gentle, this is my first Harry Potter fan fiction. The first chapter is in third person, the rest are in Draco's POV unless I decide to change that. I don't own Harry Potter, JKR does. I'm writing this purely for fun =] R&R greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 001;; Loneliness Is A Blessing.**

A young boy of about ten years old sat staring longingly at the sky. A single tear rolled down his innocent, cream-colored cheek as more threatened to spill from the tempest eyes. The sharp gray was unnaturally dull in the dark surroundings as he leaned against the black railing of the balcony. The doors, mahogany and glass, stood open to the cold November air behind him and the soothing dredges of light cast from a candle lit the inviting room nicely. However, the boy paid no mind to the warmth and comfort that room could very well seem to bring.

The boy had an unseen torment to him, his cherubic innocence mangled by pain and sorrow. The illusion of innocence dying was intensified by the boy's platinum blonde hair, sending off glittering hues of silver and gold from the incandescence of the moon and the flame. An icy beauty surrounded him, almost as cold as the frozen denial to allow him hope gleaming bitterly in the much too mature slate eyes. He shivered slightly, chilled through his emerald silk pajamas in the unforgiving air as snowflakes fell gracefully into place. Many nestled comfortably in the boy's eyelashes, the Muggle fable of Jack Frost may have instantly came to any mind of someone who cared enough to watch.

The boy's mind pondered this, though his miserable thoughts added as a direct result to the morose mood, _No one does care enough to watch me._ The boy sighed and leaned further over the railing, feeling coveted for once in the frozen arms of the dead winter. He sighed, a huff of steam falling from his lips and slowly swirling lazily into the snowflakes. The pristine stillness of the night took over him, steeling him into a living statue. His mind, once again a betrayal to the small fair-haired boy, whispered to the confines of his brain softer than the kisses of the frozen water falling to his skin. _I might as well be made of ice. Maybe then I could be loved. I'd be beautiful and perfect, and my Father would be proud and Mum and him wouldn't yell._

Another tear fell from the boys' cheek, falling into the snow and freezing into another unique piece of pristine white. He stared down through his long lashes at the flakes in an interest only a young boy could muster. "Each one is so different, and yet… they are all the same."

Another sigh fell from the boy's lips, sending a puff of snowflakes into the black night air. The full moon danced beams of light in the small boys' eyes, claiming the gray as moon beams while the merry dance within could not match the boy's ever-saddening pose. His mind was still on dinner, where Father and Mum had looked upon him none too pleased. He had feared another hex, wondering what he had done wrong.

_"Draco," the stern voice of Father cut through the solid silence, Draco's ears perking up. "Yes, sir?"_

"_Tomorrow you will begin your learning of Hogwarts. I want you informed of how the Slytherin house rules."_

_Draco gulped. He was Slytherin, no questions asked. Father had been drilling this fact into his brain since he could remember. Mum had joined in a bit too, though Father was more harsh. Still, Draco stayed silent. Mum sent father a pointed stare, and hissed softly, "Lucius, have you forgotten? I will not tolerate you hexing the boy for something that is no fault of his."_

_The boy... or 'it'. Never he, nor Draco, unless he was being directly spoken to of course. Draco was so used to it he barely felt the sting of not being wanted anymore. "Shut the bloody hell up, Narcissa."_

_Mum glared daggers. Father held a tone that was frighteningly calm, and uncannily reminded Draco of a firework- beautiful, yet dangerous. As what his tone was. "Now, I will send the elf up to get you at 6, so you can have breakfast, and then we shall meet in the parlor. Understood?"_

_Draco nodded and exclaimed, hiding his emotion as well as any ten year old boy could, "Yes, sir."_

_Father smirked, then sent a stinging hex toward the boy. Draco yelped, then ran out of the room, his eyes tearing but never spilling over._

The mere memory sent Draco's left hand to his right shoulder, absently touching the sore, stingy flesh with one hand. He let more silent tears fall to the fluffy white snow dusting the black metal beneath him, and he sniffed softly. A thought fleeted through his mind once more. _I might as well be made of ice._

The thought made sense to the boy, after all. His skin was the envy of the snow surrounding him, and his hair had been pure white at birth. It had dulled to the platinum it was when he turned three. His frozen hands pressed against his cheeks and his solid heart ached. "Oh," Draco whispered to the night longingly, "If only I weren't made of ice. Maybe I wouldn't… Maybe I'd have…"

The boy paused, anger suddenly coursing through him. _Maybe I wouldn't be alone? Maybe I might have a friend? Bollocks. _ He said aloud once more, his own voice startling him, "Loneliness is a blessing."

He removed his hands from supporting his cheeks, looking down at them. He watched as his polished nails dug into his palms when his long, slender fingers tightened into fists. An unruly sneer erupted across the boys' face, masking the boys' want for a companion and hurt despair. _I'll make Father proud, even if I need to be a selfish, horrible __git__. _ His anger suddenly abated as he stood straight, confused. _What am I angrier at? My father, or me?_

He sighed, feeling light-headed and regretting the distant throb starting to beat just between his temples. He stumbled slowly into his room, crawling into his silver adorned bed and pulling the emerald covers over him. He yawned, and decidedly announced to his empty room, "I'm too young for all this headache."

At that, he let himself drift of to sleep, snow blowing in gently to caress his slightly rosy cheeks.

-oooo-oooo-

During the rigorous months leading to Draco's first step on to platform 9 ¾, Draco endured endless talks of how he would be disowned if he were not Slytherin, and of how the Weasleys were blood traitors, and how Mudbloods were an abomination to the wizarding world and should be avoided at all costs.

Often during these 'lessons', as Father had so called them, Draco would find himself daydreaming of a happier place and time. _I wonder if I shall like anyone at school next year. I'm rather nervous._ Draco's eyes would focus out of the window at the dull scenery of the courtyard, Fathers' ice voice freezing the room but not quite reaching the boy. These daydreaming sessions cost him dearly, earning him a slap, punch, or hex that would bruise and sting for days.

Father never tolerated being ignored, and soon Draco had Father's words imprinted on his brain as clearly as the tattoo on Father's arm.

The worst of these lessons, was December 20th. It was Draco's birthday, and the boy trudged around the house sadly until his Father called for him. He had come smiling, hoping for a small gift or a Chocolate Frog, at the very least. Father and Mum had never given him anything for his birthday, and hardly ever seemed to remember half the time. "You called for me, sir?"

"Come in, boy."

_Well, he certainly looks virulent today._ Draco shuddered at the dark look on Father's face. "What have you learned from our lessons?"

Draco swallowed and began tentatively, hardly able to mask his disappointment. "Well, sir. Mudbloods are blood traitors and are the bane of the wizarding world. Weasleys are blood traitors, and shall be avoided at all costs. Gryffindors are horrific little glory-stealing prats. Hufflepuffs are sheep who are too scared to do anything but cower. Ravenclaws are vicious and stupid, using their brains to over analyze their positions until stuck, and Slytherin is the only noble house, always full of just purebloods."

Father nodded, grimly. He seemed upset to have the boy not mess up. Draco stood awkwardly in front of the tall, intimidating man, trying hard not to stare at the black insignia on Fathers' left forearm and failing miserably. "What," Father hissed angrily, "are you staring at, boy?"

Draco gulped and answered back nervously, "Sorry, sir… Please, sir, I was- well, I didn't- uhm… er… Sir, what is that?"

He pointed at the Dark Mark adorning Father's arm. Father scowled and roared, "Do not ever ask of that again!"

Before Draco even had time to shrink away, he let out a loud cry as a spell hit between his shoulder blades. He instantly began to scream as white-hot pain doused him, boils spreading across his body and his stomach feeling all liquidy. Mum burst in and shouted, "Bloody hell Lucius! Are you trying to bloody kill it?"

The indignation in Mums' tone rose over Draco's sniffles and soft cries. "He's going to get pus all over the fucking carpet!"

Father rolled his eyes and snarled, "Get that pathetic whimpering piece of rubbish out of my sight before I do kill him."

Draco never felt more alone in his entire life, or more pain. Needless to say, the hex landed him in St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital, for a straight month. They asked the boy who hexed him like that, but his lips stayed firmly shut. As much as a selfish, sadistic git his father was, Draco still loved him. And he would do anything, even be a sadistic, selfish git himself to win his Mum and Father's affections.


	2. Emerald OrbsEccentric Hexes

**A/N: **Oh jeez! It's finallygoing up! I am so incredibly sorry for the delay, my internet died due to an ice storm, and it JUST got fixed. To make it up to you, the second and third chapter are combined… I'm so sorry for the wait…. **is shot** Part 2 is the original 3rd chapter.

Well, the second chapter... I really hope this is okay so far; it's my first time really writing anything longer than a one-shot. R+R greatly appreciated! Oh, just a reminder… This update is in Draco's POV. Oh, and Fria means cold in Spanish.

**Chapter 002 part 1;; Emerald Orbs**

Diagon Alley- The wizarding quarters of shops, boutiques, ice cream parlors, and young faces searching the familiar windows for much needed school supplies. Not as it was all that familiar to me- being my first time out of the manor; except for when we went to buy clothes. Father was practically dragging me down the street towards a boutique called Madame Maulkin's.

_This should be interesting,_ I thought sullenly as Father let go of my hand and roughly pushed me forward. I winced slightly, feeling a throbbing pressure in my shoulder. Father had purposely pushed me where he had hit me, and I could feel small beads of blood soaking into my crimson shirt from a re-opened cut that his serpent-shaped ring had caused.

I gritted my teeth and ignored the slight pain, walking toward the Maulkin woman. "Ah, a Malfoy! Right this way then, lad. We'll get your robes fitted right away…"

I followed her absentmindedly to the curtained area at the other end of the small shop, smiling softly at the color. I have always liked red, ever since I can remember. _Maybe I'll be in Gryffindor, and show Father that I really don't want to be like him. Oh, but how I'd love to see the look on his face…_

I absentmindedly stepped up on to the pedestal Maulkin was guiding me on to, no longer listening to her incessant ramblings.

-oooo-oooo-

I growled as the Maulkin woman stuck me with a pin, knowing my eyes were flashing. For once, I felt something other than cold. My father's horrid frozen gaze had left me- and the shop- so he could pick up the other things on my school list. What I felt was ice- yes, ice still, but not the frozen placidity it usually was. Not the numbness it usually was. What I felt was the cold, biting bitterness of the ice, wanting to hurt someone- or something- before I went mad with the blizzard rage engulfing my heart.

Lucius- yes, Lucius is what I call him, at least out of his presence, was gone and finally I didn't have to be numb. Months had passed since the St. Mungo's thing. Somehow, I still feel my skin crawling as I think of the pain and horror I felt there…

I shuddered, pushing the thought away and earning a slap on the hand from the dotty old woman who was now hemming the edge of my sleeve. Around Lucius, I descend into that cold, numb and rigid apathy that I can only hope will make my "lessons" (as he still called them) less routine. He's refrained for the past few days from using spells, rather liking it when I cower away from a touch and the blood that spouts when he tears my stone-cold flesh with his Malfoy insignia. The ring always left a mark, two serpents around an ever-dignified cursive M. Emerald and silver, of course. And of course I had one as well. It's been bound to my finger since birth.

I think my numbness and lack of reaction is making him worse when the 'lessons' do come. He's been doing it more and more frequently these past few weeks, getting more and more sharply violent each time. I'm afraid of winding up in St. Mungo's again… I've almost resorted to falling to my knees and begging Lucius to let me be. I would have by now, if I didn't know that it would just lead to a worse beating and if I wasn't such a good little actor.

But, without the gaze of the man I loathed, what I wanted more than anything was attention. As rude and stupid as it sounds, all I want is a hug or a smile. Anything to show I'm wanted. A burst of anger surged through me and I fought not to kick Maulkin away. I kept myself still as possible, allowing my mind to send frozen curses toward Lucius. _Father's no name you deserve, Lucius. Hell, I doubt you even really deserve anything anyone can give you, you selfish, lying, vindictive, disgusting bastard._

I broke off my thoughts as a boy walked into the shop, looking rather timid and afraid. My breath hitched slightly. The boy was dressed in ratty Muggle clothes from head to toe, his thick black glasses taped together and his hair unruly, but he was… Dare I say it? Enticing. His eyes, a brilliant shade of green, shone through the glasses toward me as if they searched to melt. _He's fire…_

Something inside me made me want to talk to him. His eyes, though so incredibly intense, held the same broken glass story as mine. I knew my eyes were piercing, and he looked away from me and took a sudden interest in his shoes. _Yes. Look away. I don't quite think I want to be seen. I don't think I'll be understood._

I suddenly felt the ice return and forced my gaze up, meeting the stare of Lu-… Father, his gaze reproving and full of shocked hatred. He had seen me staring. He had seen my mind working as I stared. What I wouldn't give to take that moment back… _Maybe by acting haughty,_ I reasoned, _Father won't hurt me._

It disgusts me that my brain has turned into a vicious game of What Would Lucius Do, but what choice do I have, especially with a sadistic coward like him as a father? "Ah, Hogwarts too, I expect."

The boy turned those intense embers to me, confusion lacing into the irises like poison at the fact that I was even thinking of talking to him. "Er… Yeah."

"Oh. What House do you suppose you'll be sorted in to? I'll be Slytherin, of course. Every Malfoy has."

I fought to keep the bitterness from my voice. Exotic figure, straight from my dreams of heaven- Save me from this hell; make me think I'm human again? "Erm… I'm not really sure."

"Ah, well. Surprises are more becoming anyway. What is your surname?"

I prayed my tone did not scare him off. But before the boy could answer, the vile Maulkin woman said cheerily, adding more gloom to my own mood, "All done now, deary. Do enjoy your robes."

My father's icy, infuriated gaze was enough to make me hurry out of the shop, but not before I muttered hastily to the boy, "See you at school, then."

Father grabbed hold of my shoulder, squeezing tightly. I winced, knowing I was trapped as to anyone else it would look like an affectionate father-son gesture. I could feel my blood seeping through my crimson shirt again and gulped. I tried to search those emerald eyes again, but disappointingly enough he was already being fitted and those warm fire orbs were focused on Maulkin.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, nothing in my head except for the dread of returning to the manor, where even my newly-acquired wand was nothing and the only realities were Father's fists and spells.

-oooo-oooo-

**Chapter 002 part 2;;Eccentric Hexes**

"Boy, put your belongings in your room, sort them out, and meet me in my study as soon as you're done. I'd like to have… a _word._"

I gulped softly, then bit into my lip and nodded. _I'm as good as dead…_I shuddered as I picked up my things, and ran with all of my new possessions towards my room. That was no easy feat, mind. The books alone must have weighed fifty pounds, and I was already skinny. By the time I made it to my room, I was panting and heaving like a deranged beast.

I collapsed to my knees, not caring about my stuff that had strewn across the floor. I closed my eyes, feeling the soft carpet beneath me. The carpet had cost my parents a fortune, the dark green threads softer than unicorn hair. I gulped, trying to catch my breath and failing miserably. _Maybe I should just drift away…Like the snowflakes that one night in November… The only problem is it's so warm, there's no way I would survive. _

My eyes fluttered open, inches away from the spine of my _Hogwarts, A History_ book. My breathing slowed, not making a single sound as it passed evenly in and out. In, and out. _I don't want to die. I don't even know how to cast a single spell yet. Please, if there is a God or whatever out there, please make Father not kill me. I'll be good, I promise…_

Forcing myself to get up, I sighed and pulled my trunk close to me. I sat on my squishy carpet, stalling as much as I could without invoking more of Lucius's wrath. It's bad enough he caught me staring at that boy. Slowly I stacked my books into a neat pile in the trunk, clothes and my cloak next to them, my collapsible cauldron on the top, and my wand held safely in its box on the top of all of it.

I stood up, unable to stall any longer, and steeled my nerves. If anything came from living in this hell, it was good acting skills and numbness… Sweet, blissful, void without pain. _One foot in front of the other, that's right, Draco. That vicious old git won't scare me anymore. I won't grant him the satisfaction of my eyes breaking to glass shards anymore._

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the door to Lucius' study; his long finger beckoning me in what I supposed was an intimidation technique, though I was already way too far back in the ice to know. "Father?"

"Sit."

I obliged, sitting in a dark mahogany and emerald chair in front of my father's desk. He leaned his elbows on the desk, his long, tapered fingers pressed calmly into a steeple shape. His eyes shone with fury. "So," his voice was like a frozen pond in the spring- calm and beautiful, but in danger of cracking and letting out the anger and hatred within a second. I had to be careful this time. "Explain yourself. And it better be a good explanation, or I'll just have to believe my son is nothing but a _worthless_ gay."

_Shut up and think before you speak._ I didn't heed my own advice. "Gays aren't worthless."

Lucius' eyes sparkled and glittered dangerously. I gulped and composed myself again, saying calmly, "This is about the boy in Maulkin's."

"Yes."

"Simple. I wanted a friend."

Lucius sneered and drawled, "Malfoys don't need_ friends._ You are a bloody ponce, aren't you?"

I gulped, saying nothing as a terrible thought flitted through my mind. _What if I am? Will he finally kill me? Or find more ways to torture me?_ As I was stuck in my musings, my father snapped. Before I could even move or think, his wand was out and my body was tingling. I blinked, surprised. _Where is the pain?_

The tingling grew stronger and I felt my cheeks flush, quite confused to find- _It feels good._ I tilted my head back and made a small cry as the tingling stopped. "Well, this should be just punishment. Leaving me to wait for twenty minutes, lying to me about being what you are, and insolent back talk. You listen, and you listen well. Look down."

I looked down and let out a small gasp of surprise. My body had _changed._ What I noticed were two small, barely-there lumps of an eleven-year-old girl there. I dared not look further down. "F-Father?"

I said the title nervously, the pitch of my voice dreadfully high. "What have you done to me?"

"I shall call you Fria. Yes, that's a fitting name. Are you still listening?"

I nodded, afraid I might cry if I looked up at him, let alone speak. "I have hit you with a hex. You will remain a girl until I will the hex gone, and you will turn back into the boy you are."

Father's tone went from icy calm to menacing. "You'll be coming home every holiday, understood?"

I nodded again, feeling my body trembling. "And every time you are home, you shall be a girl for the remainder of your stay. And we shall go out, and I shall offer you to wizards. If you do not give yourself up, you will never see the light of day again. Am I clear?"

The tears started to stream freely now, my throat burning with the desire to sob. "Please, sir. I'm o-only eleven."

Father's icy gaze turned on to me. "And that does not matter. You are hitting puberty, you have feelings, _obviously_," he spat, "starting to grow, and you will do as I say."

Another wave of his wand sent the tingling through me again. I arched off the chair once more, desperately keeping a small 'oh' in my mouth. I couldn't let him know that the spell felt good to me. Even if the effects were… eccentric. "Get out of my sight, boy."

-oooo-oooo-

I sighed and sank into steaming hot water; wincing slightly at the scalding temperature of the bath I had set for myself. No bubbles or any lavish charms that could change the water color or the like, just the water, my moon-skin, and my ink-black bruises. Call me a masochist, but I liked seeing the bruises on my too pale skin. It made me feel like a masterpiece, the inky black and majestic purple and hunter green and gold that they became made me a canvas waiting for more paint.

I had the sudden urge to scrub my skin off. I refrained from that thought and instead stuck my foot out from the top of the water, arching it so it was straight with my leg. I looked at it curiously, noticing how effeminate my legs were to begin with. I placed my leg back into the water and tilted my head to look through the steam and water to my body.

My cold eyes studied my body curiously. I followed the curves and lines with my eyes, my chin even with the water and touching slightly. My chest was paler than my arms, two small rose-tinted nipples so contrasting with the surrounding white it was almost startling. My stomach was completely flat, not muscular but not fat, just the slender body of a boy with high metabolism. My belly button sat directly above a small birthmark of a star shape, barely noticeable.

With a small sigh, I leaned back. "I wonder how it would feel to drown…"

Cautiously, I drew a breath and allowed myself to sink fully under the water. Ironically, I didn't feel an inch of panic. The ice was still far too thick. I allowed myself to drift, thinking, for two minutes before I came up gasping for air. I dimly realized- _That was the only time I've felt anything in ages…_


End file.
